


a different chord, but the same refrain

by heartbreakordeath



Series: in your warmth I forget how cold it can be [1]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Sharing Clothes, basically they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24315982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbreakordeath/pseuds/heartbreakordeath
Summary: It’s late, too late, when they finally stumble out of the bar, but Dan’s never been happier. Yeah, he’s really drunk. Yeah, he’s still running off the high from the fuckingamazingshow today. But it’s the man whose arm is slung over his shoulder as they attempt to get back to the tour bus, the main whose high-pitched laughter is still ringing in his ears, that’s causing all the warmth in his chest.(inspired, as the title would suggest, by "nocturnal creatures")
Relationships: Charlie Barnes/Dan Smith
Series: in your warmth I forget how cold it can be [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807411
Comments: 23
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna be real, i may end up editing/deleting this when i actually get around to finishing it. but as we all know i'm too fucking impatient to sit on anything for more than a week, so have the first bit. enjoy :)

It’s late, too late, when they finally stumble out of the bar, but Dan’s never been happier. Yeah, he’s really drunk. Yeah, he’s still running off the high from the fucking _amazing_ show today. But it’s the man whose arm is slung over his shoulder as they attempt to get back to the tour bus, the main whose high-pitched laughter is still ringing in his ears, that’s causing all the warmth in his chest.

_Partners in crime_ , the man slurs jovially as he pulls Dan closer and they cross the street without even checking for cars. Dan just snorts and tries his best not to trip over his own feet as he looks for the sidewalk on the other side.

They’re not alone- Kyle and Woody and Will (all _slightly_ better at holding their liquor) are loosely leading the group and currently bickering over the fastest way back to the bus- but right now, Dan doesn’t notice anybody else besides Charlie.

The shorter man’s breath is hot in his ear as he leans up and laughs, though at what, Dan’s not entirely sure. Whatever the reason, it sends chills down his spine and unsettles his stomach until he shudders and drops his arm off his friend’s shoulders. He wraps his arms around himself, suddenly realizing how cold it is without Charlie pressed up against him. 

Charlie must notice, because a minute later he’s pressing his oversized black hoodie into Dan’s hands and fending off all his excuses until Dan sighs and stops to slip it over his head. 

Even drunk, his brain likes to rationalize things, and it knows how warm he feels when he puts the sweatshirt on _because it’s a god damn sweatshirt_ . And yet, he can’t ignore the overwhelming feeling that sparks in his chest when he inhales and all his senses are flooded strangely, dizzyingly, with _Charlie_.

Somehow, Charlie’s arm ends up intertwined with his own, and before he can think twice they’re holding hands. He thinks he hears something like _so we don’t get lost_ , but it’s indistinguishable above the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears. 

He tries to take a deep breath, but all he can smell and taste and hear is Charlie, seeping into his soul like it belongs there. Maybe it’s because of how fucking wasted he is, but he breathes it in like he needs it to survive, clutching onto his friend for dear life as they wander the darkened streets. 

And then, all of a sudden, it's all too much, and his stomach turns again. _Fuck._

“Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry,” Dan’s still saying as they get back to the bus, holding the foul-smelling hoodie in one hand. 

“S’okay.” Charlie shrugs for the umpteenth time and climbs into the bus. After a few unsuccessful attempts to climb up into his own bunk, he slides into the one underneath and shuts the curtain. 

“ _Hey_ ,” Kyle protests, “that’s _my_ bunk, Charlo!”

After getting nothing but silence from Charlie, he rolls his eyes and shoves Dan in the direction of Charlie’s bunk. 

“If we’re playing ‘musical bunks’ tonight, I’m taking yours. Sweet dreams. Don’t fall out in the middle of the night, m‘kay?”

Dan opens his mouth to argue, but Kyle’s already disappeared, leaving him standing in the middle of the silent bus. Woody and Will, at least, had the sense to brush their teeth before going to bed, and he steps out of the way to let them pass. 

With a groan, he heaves himself up into Charlie’s bed. It seems much higher than usual when he’s drunk off his ass, but he’s tall enough that he has far more luck than the shorter man had. _Why didn’t we give him Kyle’s bunk?_ he wonders as he crawls under the unfamiliar blankets. _Or mine. He could have mine if he wanted._

It should be _weird_ \- that he drifts off to sleep within a matter of minutes, surrounded by the scent of Charlie again as the world finally stops spinning around him. But he’s drunk, and exhausted, and by the time he wakes up in the morning he can barely recall the events of the previous night.

He thinks nothing of it when he picks up the discarded sweatshirt gingerly and manages to find a laundromat near the day’s venue. He tosses it in with all his clothes, even though it’s nearly the end of tour and there’s really no point in washing all of his things. 

But then-

“Keep it,” Charlie says with a dismissive wave of his hand, when Dan holds it out to him a few hours later. “I’ve got others.”

“Are you sure? I couldn’t.” Dan stands there, heat rising in his cheeks. “I did wash it, you know. I’m not _that_ much of a prick.”

Charlie snorts and continues making his coffee at the tiny counter. “I assumed you did. Take it anyways, so I don’t have to lend you another one next time you go out in a tee shirt like an idiot.”

“I told you, it was warmer when we left the bus!” Dan laughs, dropping his arm and slinging the hoodie over his shoulder. “Not my fault the weather app betrayed me.”

“Never trust technology.” Charlie pours two steaming mugs of coffee and slides one down the counter. “Unless it’s social media,” he adds drily, with a glance at Dan’s phone.

“It’s just Instagram,” Dan mumbles, slipping it into his pocket and reaching for his mug. He hadn’t asked Charlie for coffee, but of course his friend knows him well enough by now. Before he can pick it up, though, he realizes the sweatshirt’s still on his shoulder- right as it slips off. 

He doesn’t even have time to react before Charlie steps into his space and catches it effortlessly, rolling his eyes as he shoves it playfully into Dan’s chest. “You’re not getting rid of it that easily.”  
  
Dan hates the way his breath catches, the way his words stick in his throat as he grips the hoodie in his hand. They’re close, too close, and warning bells are going off in his head as he waits for Charlie to back away again. 

He doesn’t.

“What?” Dan chokes out, a pitiful attempt at sarcasm. “You just love to see me in your clothes, or what?”

He’s expecting a signature high-pitched laugh from the other man, an eye roll, a lighthearted excuse. He’s not expecting Charlie to simply shrug and raise his eyebrows, tilting his head and challenging him with a stare that says _so what if i was?_

Dan clears his throat, unsure how to react. Wordlessly, he steps back and sticks his arms in the sleeves of the sweatshirt, his eyes meeting Charlie’s until his face disappears behind the layer of fabric. By the time he reappears, tugging the hoodie down around his waist, Charlie’s back is to him and he’s picking up his coffee again. Dan blinks and runs a hand over the top of his bare head, pushing the hood off onto his shoulders. He nearly forgets to grab his own mug as he follows his friend to the couches.

He could pretend if someone asks- pretend he forgot he was wearing it, forgot it was Charlie’s, forgot it was covered in his own vomit the night before. But nobody questions it, and before he realizes it he’s climbing into his own bunk to go to bed, and he’s still wearing it.

It’s colder that night, and someone (he places his bet on Kyle, the bastard) has stolen the blanket Will had loaned him straight from his bed. What else is he supposed to do?

Charlie raises his eyebrows and smirks behind his coffee when, lo and behold, Dan’s still wearing the sweatshirt the next morning. Dan looks at him, challenging him to say anything about it, and goes off to take a shower.

When he tosses it onto the pile of clothes from the night before, it would make sense to just chuck it in the makeshift hamper right then and there. 

He doesn’t.

It becomes a part of his daily wardrobe almost subconsciously. It finds its way into interviews, onto stages across the world, across foreign cities waiting to be explored. 

“Charlie- he’s probably the best singer of all of us, honestly.” Dan’s rambling on in some pre-show interview, and Charlie looks up with a surprised expression on his face when the singer mentions him. He’s standing in the corner, off-camera, as the interviewer laughs and waves off Dan's statement, priding him on his own singing. 

Dan’s eyes meet Charlie’s for a moment, and they share a quick smile before the interviewer cuts in and asks another question about the tour. Charlie can’t help his eyes from zeroing in Dan’s hands as they twist the strings of the hoodie anxiously.

It suits him, Charlie thinks. There’s a little tug in his stomach every time he sees his friend wearing it- a little twinge of...possessiveness, perhaps. Not that that _means_ anything for him and Dan, of course. Just that Charlie’s a bit weird when it comes to sharing his clothes. 

  
_So_ **_what_ ** _if I am?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ended up longer than i thought so...surprise! this is 3 parts now :)  
> two posts in one day? who IS SHE

The days keep blending together- city after city, show after show, interview after interview. It feels like the nights have started blending into one as well, with every evening at the bar playing out the same, and ending with the five extremely drunk members of Bastille stumbling back to the tour bus.

And most of the time, it ends with Dan or Charlie hanging off the others’ shoulders, laughing and ignoring each other’s personal space. It ends with Kyle yelling, “Come  _ on _ , lovebirds!” from halfway down the block after the two of them stop to admire an old movie theater marquee on the corner. 

Neither of them care enough to feel embarrassed- they just look at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter and stumbling into a jog to catch up with the rest of the band.

Eventually, though, Dan finds out that despite his friend’s boundless energy during the day, Charlie Barnes is not-so-secretly a sleepy drunk at heart. More often than not, Charlie ends up draped over Dan’s shoulder and complaining loudly into his ear until they get back to the bus.

“I’m not carrying you,” he reminds the guitarist yet again after a particularly heavy night of drinking. 

(Fortunately for Charlie, Will had pulled Dan’s last drink away and announced to the whole table, “ _ I’m _ not gonna keep dragging  _ both _ of your sorry asses back to the bus.”)

Dan rolls his eyes at his friend’s answering groan and high-pitched “But why  _ notttt _ ?”, but there’s still amusement in his voice as he responds, “How strong do you think I  _ am _ , Charlie?”

And it’s not like  _ he’s  _ sober either, despite Will’s efforts- which is why he can only blink and stare as Charlie tightens his grip on Dan’s upper arm and says seriously, “Pretty strong. Your arms look strong. Pretty. You’re pretty. You have nice arms.”

He laughs, and they continue back to the bus like always, but now Dan’s head is spinning for an entirely different reason.

Neither of them notice the shift that occurs during this tour, and nobody else comments on it. The rest of the band notices, of course- Kyle’s the first to pick up on it, and the others are quick to follow. Woody jokingly bets Kyle ten quid that they’re already dating, setting off a chain reaction that ends with the three of them frantically watching Dan and Charlie and praying that they aren’t going to end up broke by the end of tour.

(To everybody’s surprise, it’s Will who emerges victorious in the end.)

Dan soon finds himself pushing away pint after pint, sick of the routine of walking out of bars with Charlie wasted, but terrified to find out what will happen if he breaks it. The rest of the band seem to take the hint as well, the thrill of all the nights out catching up with them as the tour continues.

It’s better  _ and _ worse this way, Dan decides, when he discovers that Charlie’s behavior  _ doesn’t  _ change with the amount of alcohol in his system. He still latches onto Dan, still insists that he wears his sweatshirt when they’re out, still laughs in that wonderful way whenever either of them says anything.

And, most concerning of all, he still makes Dan feel warm whenever he so much as looks at him. 

Dan considers telling him, sometimes. Considers downing a few disgustingly strong shots for courage, telling Charlie that it just isn’t the  _ same _ for him when his friend drunkenly flirts with him and enters his personal space without warning, and never mentions it the next day. That it’s not the same as when Woody slings an arm over his shoulder, or when Kyle blows him a kiss or when Will…does  _ anything _ , really, it doesn’t matter- Charlie would get the point by then. 

But then his friend would have to know how it  _ does  _ feel: how every slurred compliment warms him from the inside out, how every innocent look takes Dan’s breath away, how every casual touch stirs the part of him that he detests, deep down, the one that just wants to be fucking  _ paid attention to _ \- not for his looks, or for his voice, or for his stupid hair- but for  _ him  _ and his  _ thoughts  _ and his  _ heart _ . 

That part of him wants somebody he could leave a party with at the end of the night, someone who wouldn’t leave in the morning. Who would make tea and coffee with him and lay around on the sofa watching old films and not roll their eyes in annoyance at how fucking ridiculous and difficult Dan is. 

That part of him wants someone like  _ Charlie _ . And Charlie deserves more than someone like Dan. 

So he makes up his mind. 

* * *

  
  


“Here.”

“I thought I  _ told  _ you-“

“-I know. You did.”

“So…” Charlie pauses, eyeing the hoodie in front of his face warily as if it’s about to fly away. “Did you vomit on it again, or something?”

“Of course not.” A pause.

“Then…?” Charlie looks up at his friend, eyebrows raised, eyes searching. “Why?”

_ Because it doesn’t smell like you anymore _ , Dan thinks helplessly.  _ Because it makes me feel like I have a part of you with me. Like you’re part of me. Because all I’m gonna do is say something stupid and fuck everything up if you let me keep it.  _

He can only shrug. The words, the ones he  _ can  _ say out loud, aren’t there. They never will be. Dan places the sweatshirt on the table in front of Charlie and walks away before he can say anything he’ll regret. 

And it feels  _ good _ , for a moment, to relieve the burden of the daily reminder of his feelings. In a sick way, he almost likes walking away knowing that Charlie now knows how much of an ass he is, that he made a mistake in getting too close to Dan. That all Dan knows how to do is say the wrong thing and push people away. 

And then he wakes up the next morning, goes to make coffee, and Charlie isn’t there, and the gaping pit inside him yawns wider once more. 

It gets worse, after that, not better. Dan goes back to drinking away his thoughts, starts stumbling back to the bus on his own again (usually in a tee shirt, because he’s still a fucking idiot) or with help from Kyle or Will. He barely notices that Charlie doesn’t seem to drink much, or talk much at all to him. The two of them laugh along to their friends’ stupid conversations, shoot back comedic interjections of their own, and yet, it’s not back to normal. 

Dan still feels cold walking back alone each night, and he knows it’s not the weather. 

* * *

  
  


It takes nearly two weeks before Kyle breaks and corners Dan outside the bus. 

“What in the world are you doing?” 

“What?” Dan leans against the side of the bus, feigning nonchalance. In reality, his head’s spinning, and he’s exhausted, and he wants nothing more than to collapse into bed and forget about the world for a few hours. 

Kyle groans and runs a hand through his hair. “With Charlie, you idiot.”

Dan blinks. “Charlie? What about him?”

“Seriously? You can’t  _ possibly _ be that…” he stares at Dan, eyes searching desperately. “Oh my  _ god _ , you are!”

“I’m  _ what _ , Kyle?”

“You’re a fucking idiot, that’s what you are,” his friend proclaims again, shaking his head. “You’re so oblivious and stubborn that you can’t even see your friend’s hopelessly in love with you. Wow.”

The world stops spinning. In fact, it stops entirely. “What?”

“You absolute- why the  _ hell  _ do you think he’s been walking around like a lost puppy for the past week? ”

“He hasn’t-“  _ has he?  _ “Even if he was, it wouldn’t be because of me.”  _ Lies, so many lies. You hurt him, Dan.  _

“Of course it fuckin’ is, mate! What did you  _ do _ ?”

“I…” Dan shrugs, slumping against the side of the bus and looking anywhere but Kyle. “I just gave him back his sweatshirt, that’s all.”

“You  _ gave him back _ \- you know, I’m really starting to realize why you’ve been single for so long.”

“Kyle, what are you  _ talking about _ , he doesn’t…” The world’s back to spinning, and this time it  _ might  _ be because of the alcohol. 

“Just…” Kyle drags a hand down his face, looking just as exhausted as Dan feels. “Talk to him, alright? Please. We can’t live on a fucking bus with you two like this.”

Anxiety and nausea are swirling in Dan’s gut as he nods. “Okay.”

And then he turns from Kyle, walks back into the bus, and passes out without a single glance at anyone else. 

Two days later, his friend is shooting daggers at him during soundcheck, looking seconds away from shoving Dan and Charlie into a closet and forcing them to “work things out” until the show like they’re in some weird sitcom episode. So Dan glares back, but makes himself catch Charlie by the elbow on the way back to the greenroom. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” 

“How- how’ve you been, then?” Even being so close to his friend again is jumbling all of Dan’s thoughts into one big pile of mush. “We haven’t...talked in a bit.”

Charlie shrugs. “Been doin’ alright, I guess.” The glance he gives Dan makes him remember why he hadn’t wanted to talk to him.  _ He can see right through me.  _ “What about you, though? You seem a little…” his jaw tightens and he looks away. “Well, you’re doing just fine.”

“‘Course I am.” Dan curls one hand into a fist at his side, pressing his fingernails into his palm. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Charlie mumbles something under his breath and walks away, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dan calls, but his friend doesn’t turn around. Kyle’s still glaring daggers at him, and Dan can only shrug helplessly. Charlie deserves to be pissed at him, even if Kyle doesn’t see it. Still...he’ll never admit it to Kyle, but Dan doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like the feeling of one of his closest friends being angry with him. Doesn’t like that it’s  _ Charlie _ looking at him like he barely knows him anymore.

  
_ Maybe he doesn’t _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should've just called this fic 'dan smith is a fucking idiot' but that's just. every one of my fics. god why can't anyone else ever be the idiot
> 
> also the ending was almost  
> "come on, dan, stop acting like a-"  
> "like an idiot? yeah. i know."  
> "i was going to say 'dick', but sure."
> 
> but i thought i might as well run with the angst instead of overusing the 'idiot' trope bc we ALL KNOW IT


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Afterwards, Dan admits he should’ve seen it coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it only took an entire fucking MONTH but hey. it's done. yay!!

The energy’s... _off_ at the show that night. And the one after that. And- to nobody’s surprise- the one after _that_ , too. Kyle’s either snapping at Dan or ignoring him completely; Will and Woody are trying to stay out of it but squabbling over the most recent wager (Woody claims he bet 10 quid that Charlie and Dan would “figure things out” by the end of tour- now that it’s actually approaching, Will’s insisting it was 20...Will’s right, of course, and Woody knows it, but he’s too invested now to admit it.)

And Dan, well...there’s only three more shows until the end of the tour. Where Kyle sees it as a deadline, Dan can’t help but see it as the light at the end of this fucked-up tunnel. Just three more shows, and then they can all go home and Dan can escape the accusatory looks from the people who are supposed to be some of his closest friends. 

He’s not sure what he _expects_ to happen before they finish the tour. Nothing, probably. He’s sure everyone else is more than ready to get out of the bus and away from his sorry ass- back to their homes full of people who aren’t horribly self-deprecating assholes. 

  
  


What Dan _doesn’t_ consider is that unlike him, Charlie actually has some fucking balls.

  
  


Everybody notices it immediately- the look in Charlie’s eyes as he downs a celebratory shot after the penultimate stop on the tour, humming to himself in the middle of the quiet bar (if there ever really could be such a thing) and excusing himself to rush outside with his phone no less than four times, when he realizes he’s making noises that _mayyybe_ sound like a new song- everybody except for Dan himself, of course, who wallows in his corner of the booth and never takes his eyes off his phone until he’s pulled out of his thoughts by Kyle telling him they have to leave.

Afterwards, Dan admits he should’ve seen it coming. 

“You know what?” Charlie swerves around a telephone pole and looks back at Dan. “I think we ought to have a chat, you and I.”

“Uhh.” Dan narrowly avoids walking straight into the same pole. “About what, exactly?”

Charlie sighs heavily through his nose and tilts his head towards a side street. “About how fucking insufferable you are,” he mumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Just,” he says a bit louder, “C’mere, will you?”

Dan’s feet still. He glances around warily, shrugging helplessly when Kyle turns up ahead and pauses, confused.

“We’ll catch up!” Charlie tells him, and then Dan’s being dragged into an alley that’s _much_ smaller than he’d anticipated and Charlie’s suddenly close enough to him that the hairs on the back of his neck are rising and wow, this night is _not_ going how he’d planned. 

He flushes at the wolf whistles that echo down the empty street, but Charlie just laughs softly and leans against the rough brick behind him.

“Ignore them.” 

Dan belatedly remembers to breathe, says without thinking, “I’d say you’re making that pretty easy,” and forgets all over again.

It’s too dark to see whether Charlie’s face is heating up, too, but if the shaky laugh he lets out at that is any indication…

“Alright,” the shorter man breathes. “Alright.” He pauses and scoffs. “I still don’t understand why you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Say all that about me.” Charlie shrugs. “Tell me I’m- I’m talented, or attractive, or whatever, and expect me to believe you only want to be friends.” 

There’s a pause.

“I- Charlie...”

“Shit.” Charlie’s eyes go wide, and he pushes off the wall- and inevitably, into Dan’s space again. Dan’s pulse skyrockets so quickly it’s dizzying. “Did I- I thought...I mean, I thought you were just being nice, but then the sweatshirt, and touring, and _fuck_ I read too much into all this, didn’t I-”

“-No.” Dan gets it out, finally, when Charlie makes a move towards the sidewalk and a spike of fear shoots through him when he realizes he’s about to lose him all over again. “No, you didn’t, uh, you know. Yeah.”

Despite Charlie’s suddenly flustered demeanor, Dan just stares, not believing any of it. _Wanting to_ , sure. But believing that after all this, he’s _not_ the one who’s been overthinking everything? That he really- that _Charlie_ really- it couldn’t be this easy.

"Seriously?"

"Um." Dan blinks. "Yeah? Turns out I'm not very subtle."

“Well,” Charlie says when he regains some semblance of composure. “That wasn’t quite as harrowing as I expected.”

Dan laughs nervously. “No, I guess it wasn’t.” He clears his throat. “So, uh- we’re good, then?”

Charlie deflates. “Oh. Uh, yeah. We’re good.” He shifts, staring up at a spot past Dan’s head. “Unless, you know…you’d want to…?”

“Oh. _Oh_. Now? Yes. Yep. I would very much like to.”

Charlie laughs and runs a hand through his disheveled hair, looking right at Dan now. 

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” he says, stepping forward until their noses are nearly touching and his breath is hot on Dan’s neck.

“Y’know, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.”

“Oh, do you ever shut _up-_ “

“Also been hearing that a lot- _mmph_!”

“Get a room!” Somebody (Will, probably) calls from down the street a few minutes later, when the two of them still haven’t reappeared.

“How about yours?” Charlie takes a second to yell back. “Yeah, thought so!”

“Actual children, you lot,” Dan mutters with an adoring smile on his face. Charlie kisses the smile off his face (or, he tries to, though Dan’s so fucking dazed and giddy that it barely works), then one more time for good measure, both of them breaking apart to simultaneously yell, “Fuck _off_!” when the catcalling continues.

They’re about to actually listen and head back to the bus (but only once Dick starts yelling something about leaving them behind) when Charlie stops abruptly. 

“Oh, wait.”

“Hmm?” Dan turns, brow furrowed. The frown drops off his face instantly, the familiar heady warmth flooding through his body all over again. 

“Almost forgot.”

Charlie’s standing there, arms exposed, hand outstretched. It’s the last bridge to cross, the last lifeline to be connected. The last house to be rebuilt, after Dan so carelessly burned it down. He looks so much smaller than usual in the moment, so vulnerable; soft eyes and hesitant smile holding nothing but trust and a single, unspoken question.

Dan reaches out without hesitation and slips the hoodie over his head. 

“Thanks,” he says softly. Charlie’s smile widens, and he reaches up to pull the hood over Dan’s head, brushing a hand against the side of his head affectionately. Dan tries his best to sear the memory into his brain: the way the shorter man’s beaming at him like he can’t believe his luck, the way the innocent touch makes his entire body shudder with feeling, the way he feels rooted to the sidewalk, content to stay there forever if it meant he could relive this moment over and over.

“Anytime,” Charlie replies after a moment, taking Dan’s hand and linking their fingers together. “Your hands are fucking freezing, by the way.”

“Not anymore.” Dan buries his free hand in the pocket of the sweatshirt, sighing heavily as a sense of calm settles over him. Charlie squeezes his other hand gently, shivering slightly as a breeze gusts past them. 

“Next time, I steal one of _your_ hoodies, ‘kay? I don’t know how you’ve managed to forget to bring one every single night we’ve been out.” 

Dan laughs, ducking his head and mumbling something that Charlie barely catches. 

“Oh, you _asshole_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (dan mayyyyy have purposefully worn nothing but tee shirts every night bc he’s a dramatic bitch and needs attention from charlo. charlo is not amused. kyle thinks it's fucking hilarious.)


End file.
